Page 47 of Grim’s Angel

I withdraw my fingers and spread her thighs wider. The head of my cock presses against her entrance.

“Tell me who you are.”

Her eyes shine. “Your Angel.”

I drive into her.

Her wet pussy opens around me, tight enough to drag a curse from my throat. She cries out and grips the edge of the desk as I fill her to the hilt.

“Too much?”

“Exactly enough.”

I withdraw and thrust again.

The desk braces her beneath me as I take her with the urgency we denied ourselves at the cabin. Her breasts move with each stroke, her mouth open and her gaze fixed on mine.

“More,” she pleads.

I give it to her.

Her legs tighten around my hips, drawing me deeper. Papers slide to the floor as I brace my uninjured arm beside her and drive into her harder.

“I’m yours,” I tell her.

Her pussy clenches around my cock.

“Mine?” she asks.

“As long as you want me.”

“Then you’re mine.”

The words strike deeper than pleasure.

I spread her thighs and thrust into her while my thumb finds her clit.

Her cries fill the office. She grips my shoulders and meets every stroke as the wet sound of our bodies grows louder.

“Come for me, Angel. Let me feel what choosing me does to you.”

Her orgasm takes her suddenly. Her pussy clamps around my cock in hard pulses, and her back arches above the desk.

I keep thrusting through every contraction until the sight and feel of her shatter my control.

I bury myself deep and come inside her with her name torn from my throat.

For several seconds, the only sound in the office is our breathing.

I remain inside her while the last tremors pass, my forehead resting against hers.

“I understand why the desk made your list,” she whispers.

“I’ll never replace this desk.”

Her laugh wraps around the dangerous hope inside me.

I pull away carefully and retrieve a warm cloth from the washroom adjoining my office. She watches me clean her before I help her dress.